


Various titles

by ballpoint



Category: Marvel 616, Young Avengers
Genre: Community: comment_fic, Gen, General, Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-30
Updated: 2010-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-11 08:38:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballpoint/pseuds/ballpoint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death, backgammon, cake, video game defeat and a definition of self. A mixed bag, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Various titles

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:Characters and situations are the property of Stan Lee and Marvel Comics. No profit is being made off this fan-written work. All stories are in answer to the lonely comment fills on

**If I could buy you flowers. **

Before the YA, before her new _family_, Cassie thought about visiting her dad's grave, with or without her mom's permission. Once there, she didn't get to linger during her time with Iron Lad and now, after the madness of Civil War and everything, she was here. But most importantly, as she knelt in front of the gravestone, not alone.

"This is what we do," Kate said, handing over a pair of gardening gloves to Cassie. Cassie almost wanted to shove them back into Kate's hands. They were so _pretty_, bright yellow with purple polka dots, and a bright purple trim. They looked new and expensive, just like everything Kate had. Kate tugged on her own gloves, and motioned Cassie to do the same.

That done, Kate whisked out other bits out of her backpack - a bright blue handled trowel, purple stout scissors, and a small, square box.

"I -" Cassie said, as she rubbed her cheek with her glove clad hand, feeling the dampness of the earth seeping through her jeans.

"It's hard, at first," Kate gave an encouraging smile, her eyes the softest Cassie had ever seen. Softer than when she came when they were locked in that terrible room by Captain America and Mr Stark, softer than when she looked at Eli or Tommy. "It should be. We rip out the weeds first."

Under Kate's tutelage, Cassie learned to tear the weeds out by their roots, "Don't break them off, they'll just grow back," Kate said, and they cleared the moss from the headstone. Cassie lifted her finger, traced its fancy A, and rubbed at her eyes. She didn't cry, although her face felt hot and flushed, but she held her composure, up until Kate took out a pot of small, bright flowers from it's protective case, and placed them at the foot of the gravestone.

"I didn't -" Cassie released a shuddering breath, her chest tight. "I couldn't get flowers for Dad because -" she cut herself off, not wanting to say that she stopped asking her mom for money to buy flowers for her Dad's grave. "I just _couldn't,_ 's all," she finished on a wail, only to feel Kate's arms pulling her closer.

"I know," Kate said, as they rocked back and forth, like two lost souls on a boat out to sea. "I forgot the first time I had to do this too. It's okay."

It wasn't, Cassie knew, but for the first time, she stopped feeling so alone.

 

** In A Month of Saturdays**

It's always the quiet times, mostly on a Saturday afternoon, when they have the space alone.

Billy observes the Sabbath, whenever he can - if the world doesn't need saving - Teddy stomps around downstairs, or stays away until Billy comes back. Tommy, well, he never hung around, and Cassie, since reconciling with her mom, does chores on a Saturday.

For Eli, Saturdays are a gift: his grandma doesn't expect him to be underfoot, once he's done his chores, and there's no work at the library on this day. So he comes and stays.

Kate, well, she's always here, and never says why.

On a Saturday afternoon, this is how they do:

Backgammon, pieces set out, blue and red on black points and tan background. Dice shaken, and the higher score goes first.

"Me, this time," Kate smiles and the game begins.

Eli settles in, and gets absorbed by the strategy of it; the movement of his pieces _en masse_ from one side of the board to the other.

oOo

Two months ago, when they got settled into the old Bishop building, Eli found himself knocking about one Saturday, and stumbled across Kate at the kitchen table, board set out in front her, moving these little discs, like toy soldiers on a battle field. The afternoon light crept across the board, marking her hands with shadowy patterns. Elegant fingers, as she tapped a piece with a long, unpolished nail. They were still new to each other, then. With the hitch and rub of the unknown, and awkward edges. He knew that she was _capable_, and had a mouth on her, but nothing else.

"Hey, sorry," he said then, going to the fridge and grabbing the carton of juice.

"I hope you're going to use a glass. They're in the far right cupboard, second shelf."

_Man, busted_. Eli helped himself to a glass, and made to go, but his curiosity got the better of him. "What are you playing?"

"Backgammon," Kate shook the dice cup, while speaking to him. "It's easy, sit down. I'll teach you."

Saturday afternoons weren't the same after that. While playing backgammon, they'd share pieces of themselves.

"I learned to play on a yacht off the coast of Barbados," Kate said once. "My parents took us so we could see flying fish."

"My family, well, I live with my grandparents because my mom decided to move to Arizona with her new husband, and my siblings."

"Do you miss them?"

"At times," he shrugged, and cleared his throat. Their heads were close together, and he could see the fringe of her lashes, and a zit just at her hairline. She smelt of flowers and mint, and - yeah. "Your move," he said.

Eli lost the first six Saturdays in a row, got mad, checked three books out of the library and studied strategy. Came back, trounced Kate soundly on the fifth try that day, by blocking most of her pieces, and getting his pieces in.

"Yes." Eli punched the air with his fist. "In yo' face!" he pointed at her, whooped with joy. "I got this."

Kate laughed, as she got up, putting away the pieces of the board. Eli, magnanimous in his victory, stood beside her to help, and their fingers touched. Kate became really still, and Eli backed off.

"Sorry."

"About what, winning?" Kate's tone was arch, as she snapped the backgammon case shut, and tilted her chin, facing him. "Don't be sorry about winning. The 'in yo' face' line is a tad OTT, however, but don't let me stop you."

"Oh, yeah?" Eli felt more comfortable, now that Kate's familiar spikiness came back. For a moment, he thought--

"Yes. It's bad form to gloat."

"I -" he cleared his throat, suddenly struck by how close they were. "I like you," he said.

Kate did that smirk he was familiar with by now. "I know," she said.

oOo

This Saturday isn't any different. They play backgammon until the sun goes down, and the street lights flicker on. Eli and her are evenly matched; although Kate has the edge with her studied patience, which blunts his ambitious plays. The kitchen is dark, and they stand to clear the bits of the game, their shoulders jostling, and Kate breaks away to laugh. "I! Win!" she crows, doing a little jog on the spot, and throwing her hands in the air as if she's scored a touchdown. "In your face!"

Eli grabs her by the shoulders in a minute of her little jig, and frowns. "I thought it was 'bad form' to gloat?"

"Hah! You believed that?"

"My bad," Eli steps back, and closes the case with a click. There's always next week, after all.

"Hey," Kate stops her jig, but her voice is still light with laughter. She touches his hand with the tips of her fingers and says, "I do like you."

In the quiet of the kitchen, with no one but them and the backgammon game, he says, "I know."

 

**Henceforth, today shall be known as Cake Day.**

Eli walked into the kitchen of the YA lair, with the aim of grabbing some cereal and going back to study, but stopped short at the sight in front of him.

Cake.

Not just cake, as in, a rounded bit of baked dessert served with a bit of jam and cream on the side but _cake_. Honest to goodness cake- everywhere: cheese cake, topped with strawberries and cream, a three tired concoction of dreams, covered in frosting as white and pure as snowfall, with bit of silver glitter, and two male figures on top. A fleet of cupcakes obscuring the table, each one a tiny jewel of perfection; from the cunning ones that had leggoes made from jelly, to those that doubled as full skirts with the doll figures stuck on top of them, with parasols.

"What in the -?" he said, stepping into the kitchen, inhaling the sticky scent of caramel, burnt sugar and creamy frosting.

Kate had a plate in her hand, with a slice of cake on it. Rich, creamy double layered chocolate, moist and shiny, with vanilla frosting and shaved bits of carrot on top, and she poked at it with her finger.

"Credit card fraud," she said, between licking the frosting from her finger. "Someone got a hold of my card, and went wild. They just ordered cake and it came here. With more on the way."

"Whoa."

"Pfft, yeah. My total credit for the month maxed out on cake. So no replacement anything for the next three weeks. Jesus, Dad is going to flip. My bank is taking care of it, but until then..."

"Cake."

"Exactamundo. Going forward, May 12th shall be known as 'Cake Day'," Kate declared, as she held up her place. "Care for a slice?"

What the hey, Eli thought, cereal could wait. "Only if I can have cheese cake?"

Kate waved a hand in the direction of the landscape of cake. "Help yourself."

** Divided By Zero**

Before _them_ \- Tommy, Eli, whomever - it started with her.

Kate tells herself this (although she knows this), every breath she gets. Before them, Kate had already been well on the way to becoming _ her_ \- learning the mechanics of the bow and arrow - until her fingers twitched in her sleep, until she learned to _breathe _ when making that shot.

Always her, from the scratchy notes of her first fumbles at the cello, her fingers pressed into the fret board, their tips going from sore, to calloused, notes tripping from ragged, to smooth, her wrist movements fluid. Doing a solo on the last day of camp, notes a _glissando_ as they flowed around her and into the summer sky. All the applause, hers.

Her, when she wakes up crying (alone) from flashbacks, her room dark, the ambient noise of life shut out until she has the strength to let it back in, throws her sheets back, before the day truly begins. Her, now, when she loops the cowl around her neck, although her pulse jumps as she remembers -_breath cut short, lungs burning, nononononnoonnononooo Oh God, no_ \- but arranges it just so, with a slight tremble in her fingers anyway.

_So, who will it be, Kate ?_ she knows the question will come one day, for Tommy and Eli are both bold and impatient in their own way. Each one thinks of her as some conquest, of territory to be claimed and a flag planted for whatever nonsense guys pledged themselves to nowadays.

Kate will have the answer in her mouth then and not before. She will save the reply for the time when they will listen, and just not hear. "Me," she'll say. "I chose me."

And they will all be content.

 

** This Time, This Means War**

"Awww, yeah!" Cassie did a soft shuffle across the kitchen floor in her glee, as the New Avengers gaped at her. Suddenly too happy to keep her composure, she broke out of her dance, giving high fives to the rest of her team mates. Kate hugged her and she giggled, while Eli, Tommy, Teddy, Jonas and Billy took turns ruffling her hair.

"We won! We won! Yessss."

"I _told_ you," Spider man sighed, hanging upside down as he dipped a plate into soapy water with one hand. "Any game but _Mario Brothers_."

"Any one can play _Mario Brothers_," Jessica Jones held up a plate encrusted with sauces and bits of vegetables. On a sigh, she slid it into the sink of hot soapy water.

"Except ol' Ronin here," Luke slapped the dish rag against a plate, only for it to shatter in his hand. "Uh oh."

"Butterfingers," Carol rolled her eyes, weighted down by plates in her hands brought in from the living room, the place of their slaughter. "Tell me, why don't we have a dishwasher again?"

"In this economy?"

"Hey, it's a _new_ controller!" Clint defended himself, only to be greeted by a wet tea towel smack in the middle of his mug. Laughing, he pulled the towel from his face and said to his wife, "You're a sore loser, Bobbi."

"Next time, for video games, _I'm_ in charge," Pete said.

"There'll be a next time?" Kate laughed, as Luke nodded.

"Girl," he said, as he gingerly held a plate in his hand, holding it in her direction as if were an extended finger, sudsy water running down his forearms, dripping into a puddle on the titled floor. "In this world, there's always a next time."

"Then, we'll be ready," Cassie beamed, "and you'll wash the dishes again."

"Dem's fighting words," Jessica shouted over the catcalls and _Oooh_'s that greeted Cassie's boldness.

"What about next week? Same time, same channel. But next time, bring dishwashing gloves and cleaning supplies," Clint grinned. "This apartment could do with a good scrubbing down."

"Wait, what are you trying to say?" Kate, ever quick on the uptake, held on to Cassie's hand. "You want us to _clean_ your apartment?"

"If you think you can't do it--"

Cassie broke away from Kate's grip and skipped over; ponytail bouncing as she shook his hand, face flushed with the pleasure from winning.

"Deal."


End file.
